


your honor, my honor

by hoppnhorn



Series: Harringrove Bits & Pieces [13]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Discrimination, Group Sex, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, M/M, Mutual Pining, lawsuit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 12:37:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14261139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoppnhorn/pseuds/hoppnhorn
Summary: Billy Hargrove, city attorney, finds a worthy opponent in Steve Harrington, a defense attorney. They enjoy a good scrap in the courtroom and pine for a good romp in the bedroom. When they find themselves on opposite sides of a troubling case, will the outcome bring them closer together or set them at odds for good?





	your honor, my honor

**Author's Note:**

> I _might_ continue this. I might not. It's loosely based off of the show "Reckless" if you've seen it. Written for a prompt on tumblr. Enjoy!

Steve Harrington is a know-it-all. He’s smug and vicious in the courtroom, all charming smiles and gentle tosses of his hair to win over a jury without even saying a word. It doesn’t help that he’s fast on his feet either. On cross examination, he cuts through bullshit like butter and puts cases to bed without batting an eyelash. He’s one of the best defense attorneys in the state. 

Billy hates him. 

As city attorney, he stands across the isle from Harrington often and it’s never an easy fight. When Billy jabs, Steve parries. When Steve strikes, Billy dodges. Around and around they circle. Billy wins sometimes and, to his eternal irritation, sometimes he doesn’t. Ultimately, he respects his opponent. 

He also wishes his opponent wasn’t so goddamn sexy. 

Even calling him makes Billy stand a little straighter, tug on his collar even though his tie was tossed on his countertop hours ago and his button-down is open nearly to his navel. While the phone rings, Billy imagines the triumphant grin on Steve’s face when he sees his number. It’s not uncommon for them to talk, what with working in the same city for years. But it’s rare for Billy to be the one calling and Steve knows it. 

“Well hey there, stranger.” Billy  _ hates  _ him. 

“Hey yourself.” He grumbles back, taking a pull from the bottle of beer in his hand. The glass feels cold in his sweating palm. 

“How can I help you, counselor? Or is this a social call?” Steve’s voice is smooth like silk and far too confident for someone who’d  _ lost _ in court today. Or will lose tomorrow when Billy takes his client apart on the stand. 

“You trying to sweet talk me, counselor?” Billy dodges. Steve strikes. 

“Now we both know you have no interest in sweet.” 

_ Bastard _ . 

“No truer words, sugar.” Billy says with a lilt in his voice, swiping his tongue over his front teeth. “I’m calling about Lyanne Wilcox.” 

He hears Steve audibly choke and then hiss a curse. 

“People talk too much in this goddamn town.” He mutters. “How did you know I was representing Mrs. Wilcox?” 

“Because you’re the best attorney in town and she’s gonna need the best to win.” Billy says with a shrug, though only Chuck, the enormous cat lounging on his sofa, sees it.

“I think that was almost a compliment.”

“It was.” Billy takes another swig of his beer. “But I didn’t call you to whisper sweet nothings in your ear.”

“Pity.” 

“I have something I wanted to show you, something I’m thinking will...complicate things.” Billy chews on the inside of his cheek. Glancing at his coffee table, he stares at the image frozen on the screen of his laptop. It’s an image of Lyanne Wilcox, an attractive woman in her early thirties. Her eyes are closed and her head is thrown back, mouth open in a small cry of pleasure. He’s watched the tape a few times, wishes he didn’t need to, but did it anyway. 

“Well that couldn’t have been more cryptic if you tried.” Steve purrs at him over the phone. “I’m intrigued.” 

“Steve.” He says his name seriously, remembering that what he had to show his opponent wasn’t something to joke about. It was the worst kind of ugly; the kind that distorted something that was supposed to be beautiful and made it twisted. “This case is a minefield and I just stepped on a trigger.” Billy sits and strokes a hand over Chuck’s belly and the cat rolls to his side, allowing him further access. 

“Alright.” Steve’s voice mirrors his own business-like tone. “Should I swing by tonight?” 

Billy eyes the clock; it’s almost eight in the evening. 

“Yeah. I’ll be up.” He hears Steve moving and then hears a small sigh. 

“Give me a half hour?” 

“Sounds good, counselor.” Billy says softly, his eyes fixed on Lyanne’s face. 

“You better have beer.” Steve adds, teasing again. Billy’s laugh is brief but warm. 

“Yeah, I’ve got beer.”

* * *

Billy Hargrove is a dick. Harvard educated and confident as the day is long, the guy struts through town like he owns it. Because he practically does. He’s tough and cutthroat in the courtroom and equally as intimidating in person. But not to Steve. To Steve, Billy’s a worthy opponent and fun little play-thing. 

He enjoys playing with Billy Hargrove in court. Enjoys making him grind his molars and work for his state pay. He also enjoys dissecting the shitty witnesses that the prosecution trots out, like the detectives that are about as straight-laced as Steve is straight. 

Lyanne Wilcox is just another in a list of women with claims of sexual harassment at the hands of a police officer. An officer herself, Lyanne was relieved of her badge and gun after a photo circulated the station of her in her underwear. A photo she’d taken, sure, but not to be shown to everyone. 

Lyanne had walked the three blocks from the police station to Steve’s office, eyes still red with tears, and begged him to help her. 

How Billy Hargrove had managed to find out, only a _day_  later, is still a mystery to Steve as he pulls up in the guy’s driveway. 

He’s only been to Billy’s home once, years ago, but Steve doesn’t forget anything.  The place hasn’t changed a bit. The paint’s a little chipped and the back porch needs a new screen, but ultimately it’s a cute little Cape Cod with a pretty view of the river. Steve spots a boat tied up at the dock and wonders if Billy fishes. Then he wonders when the guy finds  _ time _ to fish. 

“You ever been out on the river?” 

Steve spots Billy leaning inside the porch on the other side of the screened door. He’s got a beer in hand and a white shirt on, open halfway down his chest. Steve walks closer and smiles wide, like his stomach isn’t fluttering. 

“Not since I was a kid.” He replies, hands in his pockets. Billy pushes open the door and it swings wide with a squeak, revealing the rest of him. He’s changed into jeans since trial that morning, Steve notes, and the dark denim looks good on him.  _ Very _ good. 

“You should come out some weekend.” Billy offers with a dazzling smile and a glint in his eye. A glint with which Steve is becoming increasingly familiar. “Have a few beers, catch a few fish.”

“Speaking of beers.” Steve steps up into the porch and walks right into Billy’s space, reaching out to snag the bottle in the guy’s hand. He’s pleased when Billy releases it and steps aside, sweeps an arm wide. 

“Help yourself.” 

“I always do.” Steve replies with a smirk, tilting the bottle back to take a sip. It’s cold, like it’s fresh out of the fridge. When he spots Billy plucking another opened beer off a nearby coffee table, he chuckles and turns. Surveys the room. 

The decor is simple, typical of a single man who doesn’t find value in  things _. _  The white walls house only family photos, mostly of his sister Max, and a few of Billy's school days. One of him in a cap and gown holding his degree from Harvard. A squeak catches his attention and Steve looks down to find a large, orange cat staring up at him from the floor.

“Well hello.” He says, kneeling down to look closer. The animal blinks at him, opens its mouth and squeaks again. 

“He doesn't like you.” Billy teases from somewhere behind him, a smile evident in his voice. 

“What a pack of lies.” Steve laughs, reaching out with an open palm. “Everybody likes me, right?” The cat sniffs his fingers, eyes still trained on Steve’s face, and then leans into his touch. When Steve curls his fingers to scratch the animal’s fuzzy, orange head, the cat stands and walks into his embrace, allowing him to run his hands down the entire length of its body. 

“Traitor.” Billy murmurs with a chuckle and Steve grins, then slowly stands. 

“Like I said.” He turns to meet Billy’s eye and nearly forgets what he’s saying. Billy has the most extraordinary eyes, vivid and spellbinding. Steve smiles. “Everybody likes me.” He takes a swig of his beer to push away the impulse to drop his gaze lower, to fixate on the mouth that both intrigues him and infuriates him on a daily basis. 

“Sure.” Billy snorts. “Keep telling yourself that.” 

“I will.” Steve nods and smacks his lips, glances at the beer label. It’s a local brewery, one of the good ones. He nods again and Billy seems to appreciate it, smile going a little easy around the corners of his mouth. “Now what did you want to show me?” Steve motions into the house and Billy leads the way, stepping through into a living room. 

“This showed up on my desk today, before the chief of police called to tell me about Lyanne Wilcox.” He motions inside the room towards a coffee table and Steve frowns when he sees Billy’s computer open on it, the screen blue. 

“Before?” 

“Yeah.” Billy scratches the back of his head, fingernails ruffling the short blond hair there. Steve tracks the movement in surprise. Billy only touches his head when he’s nervous, or losing. “I think whomever left it...isn’t from the police department.” 

“Then why would they give it to you...whatever _it_ is?” Steve rounds the coffee table and sits on the sofa. Billy sits beside him and a sigh. “ _I’m_ the one helping Lyanne sue the police for wrongful termination and sexual harassment.” 

“I have no idea.” Billy admits. “But this…” He gestures to the computer again and swallows. “This might kill her case.” 

Steve’s blood runs cold. 

“Show me.” He says stiffly, eyes trained on the side of Billy’s face. The blond glances over at him and then nods, reaching out to tap the spacebar on the laptop. 

The video plays and Steve holds his breath. 

Six minutes later, he reaches out and hits the spacebar himself, taking a swig of his beer and leaning back against the sofa. 

“Fuck.” He hisses, rubbing his fingers over his eyelids. 

“Yeah.” Billy sighs. “It’s not...good.”

“That’s an iceberg.” Steve grumbles, takes another long pull on his beer. “And Lyanne is the goddamn Titanic.”

Billy’s laugh is hardly a laugh. More like an acknowledgement.  _ Yeah, you’re fucked. _

“Can you identify...all of them?” Steve asks. Billy nods. 

“They’re all officers in her precinct. I checked.” 

“Fuck.” Steve repeats, rubs a hand over his face. “And that’s definitely her.” 

“Yeah.” Billy confirms. “I even noticed the tattoo on her ankle.” He taps on the laptop touchpad, drags the tape along further until Lyanne’s leg is visible. “In her police employee file, it says she has a butterfly on her left ankle.” 

The tattoo on the screen is a blue butterfly and it’s on the woman's left ankle. 

Steve knows he should stand, thank Billy for allowing him proper time to discuss the tape with his client, and leave. Instead, he sinks further into the couch and shakes his head, staring at the screen. 

Lyanne and three fellow officers, in a hotel room. 

“This can’t be shown in court.” He murmurs. “For fuck’s sake, she’s married—”

“I know.” Billy sets his beer down on the table. “To a good man who doesn’t deserve to see...his wife like that.” 

Steve finishes his beer and suddenly wishes he had another. Billy seems to read his mind and stands, crossing the room into the kitchen. He opens the fridge and brings two more bottles back, opening one for Steve on the way. 

“She didn't tell me about this.” Steve admits as he takes it, nods his thanks. “She said the photos were a one-time thing. That she’d been having an affair with one officer.”

“Terry.” Billy nods, points to one of the naked men frozen on the laptop screen. Steve sighs. “Yeah, he admits to having sex with Lyanne, but he didn’t admit to this.”

“Why film it?” Steve hisses suddenly, his blood boiling over. “I mean, clearly this was taken with a phone.” He hits the spacebar out of spite and the image moves again, bodies writhing and voices blurring. “Probably propped on top of the nightstand.”

“Probably.” Billy touches the spacebar gently.

“She probably doesn’t even know it exists.” Steve groans. “Jesus, what am I gonna tell her?” 

“The state is willing to pay her severance to help until she can find work.” Billy slips into lawyer mode and Steve rolls his eyes. 

“She won’t be able to find work unless she waits tables or moves out of the city.” He snaps. “And it’s all because some asshole couldn’t be discreet enough to—” Steve stands, runs his fingers through his hair. He hates Terry McDowell now more than he did when Lyanne told him her story. How her husband’s injuries from a car crash had made them unable to have sex. How she’d met Terry and he’d made her feel desirable again. How they’d started having sex after their shifts, then texting during their shifts. 

How Terry still had a goddamn job after leaking photos to his buddies and Lyanne was the one who wound up fired. 

“This is bullshit.” Steve hisses. Pointing at the screen, he faces Billy. “It doesn’t change anything. My client still deserves more than just a bit of severance while Officer McDouchebag gets a slap on the wrist.”

“Steve—” Billy face falls. 

“No, I’m not settling just because it’ll be hard. She deserves to make that call herself.” Steve takes a step away. “Thanks for the beer, counselor.” He sets his down on the table. 

“Now just...hold on a second.” Billy approaches with open hands. “I wasn’t trying to pressure you.” Steve knows  _ that’s  _ not true, but something about the way Billy shakes his head and closes the video makes his stomach warm. “I just thought I’d give you the heads up. Let you talk to Lyanne before we walk into a courtroom.” 

Steve swallows at the sincerity on Billy’s face. 

“I appreciate that.” He murmurs quietly. “ _ Lyanne _ will appreciate that.” 

They stare for a moment and Steve wants to reach out and press a palm to the bare skin on Billy’s chest, feel his heartbeat against his fingers. He’s like a ghost, Billy Hargrove, something he can’t escape no matter how hard he tries. 

“Why can’t we just be two normal people?” Billy asks. Steve arches a brow.

“I consider myself pretty normal, thanks.” 

The laugh from Billy’s lips makes Steve’s heart flutter in his ribs. 

“I mean, why can’t we just be two guys having a beer?”  _ Making love on cheap carpet while an orange cat snores _ . 

“Maybe when you’re not actively trying to sink my ship, counselor.” Steve teases with a tired smile. Billy steps closer and suddenly Steve can’t breathe. 

“I’m always trying to sink your ship.” He grins. “It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta keep you busy.”

Steve smirks. He really wishes it wasn’t that way. He really wishes he and Billy were on the same side of the courtroom. Or the bedroom. 

“Well, I’ve certainly got my work cut out for me now.” Steve scoffs. “Thanks for that.” 

“Hey.” This time, it’s Billy who arches a brow. “I consider this…” He gestures between them and the computer. “...a favor.” 

“You’re right.” Steve knows Billy is surprised when the guy’s smirk slips into something a little more genuine. “Thank you.” 

The warmth in Billy’s eyes is radiant. Steve wants to fall into it like an embrace. 

“No problem. I’ll have a copy made for you tomorrow.” Billy adds. 

“Carefully?” Steve asks, though he knows he can trust his opponent. Oddly enough, Billy always fights fair even when Steve doesn’t. 

“Of course.” Billy nods. “That tape won’t be seen by anyone outside of us until you decide how we proceed.”  _ Until my client drops her case because she doesn’t want a whole jury to see her having sex with three men. _

Steve settles with a soft nod before he sets his beer down, holds Billy’s gaze. 

“Well, I guess I’ll say goodnight then.” His palms are tingling when he shoves them in his pockets, starts his way back the way he came and Billy follows. 

“Thanks for coming by.” The blond says as they reach the door. Steve leans against it, hand on the knob. 

“Thanks for the beer.” 

“Anytime.” Billy says quickly and Steve swallows. He wants to think that Billy means it, that the look in his eye is an invitation. He wants to thank Billy with his mouth in a wholly different way. He wants to push Billy back into the rocking chair on the porch and straddle him, weave his fingers through long curls that hang down his forehead. 

“See you in court.” Is what he says instead, opening the creaky screen door to walk out to his car. He can’t help but glance over his shoulder and wave as he walks away, pleased when he sees Billy do the same from the otherside of the screen. As he ducks into his car and starts the engine, he watches Billy stand at the door, his dark silhouette just barely visible in the night. 

_I am so screwed._

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up [@hoppnhorn](http://hoppnhorn.tumblr.com)


End file.
